Solitude
by Claystone
Summary: Post Reichenbach: Several years after Sherlock's supposed "death" John goes to work as a professor at a prestigious boarding school that specializes in teaching the troubled children of influential families. The most troublesome of which ends up in his class: a student that shares the surname "Holmes"


**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of it's characters.**

**Rated for language and adult themes.**

* * *

It was the first day of his new job.

As a professor.

He had put up a long and harrowing fight with Lesterade who, for what it was worth, seemed rather determined to get back out into the world. John however, begged to differ.

Didn't meet the requirements, he'd told him. Much too damaged to be the teaching type. Educators employed at a school as prestigious as Solitude were expected to be top of the line. Mentally stable. Not war torn ex army veterans. Not consulting detectives who worked along side known terrorists. Definitely not anyone who was affiliated with the late Sherlock Holmes.

"Don't assume you're the only one out there with a screw loose, Watson." Greg had told him. "If the average person were as sane as you gave them credit for, I'd have been out of the job a long time ago." He laughed heartily, referring to his days as a crime inspector in London.

John had agreed to disagree as he continued in a downward spiral of anxiety. For her part, Harriet was quick to pick up on his distress on their drive to the station the weekend before the start of term.

"John Watson." She whipped around to face her brother once they were safety parked. "Politely shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're brooding. It's annoying."

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah well you're not exactly a ball of sunshine either these days."

John knew it was a low blow but he couldn't help it. He was thoroughly tired of being babied all the time.

Harriet narrowed her eyes but her expression was soft. "Look, I know these past few years have been hard on you."

"Understatement." John frowned, musing over the past few years bitterly.

When he wasn't out busy starting wars or infiltrating security systems, the universe busied himself with finding creative new ways to torment John Watson. He'd been evicted from his apartment by the British Government (Mycroft), stalked by the CIA (Mycroft), and been given a court order to see a therapist. (Most likely Mycroft)

Case in turn, the universe had good intentions. Apartment 221B was known to be a constant source for media speculation and it's other more troublesome associates. In return, both himself and Mrs. Hudson had been compensated with a residence on a wide expanse of government property outside London. The universe also sent him weekly royalty checks (for no apparent reason) and offered him a job at the hospital to which he'd politely declined.

It wasn't long after that the universe had a name: Mycroft Holmes.

John hadn't actually spoken to him in person since Sherlock's funeral but it was obvious that the man had continued to look out for him. For a while, he couldn't decide whether to be grateful for the man's concern or spiteful for his hand in his brothers death.

In time he settled for the second opinion.

"John, would you just listen to me for one bloody minute!" Harriet's annoyed tone pulled him back into a reality.

He sighed deeply and turned back to his sister, still wearing his eternal frown.

"I really do think that this will be good for you." She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "You've been holed up in your shell for too long. It's not healthy."

"I stopped caring about my heath a long time ago."

Harriet's eyes were sad and pitying. She bit her lip, choosing her next words carefully. "If Sherlock were still with us, I think he would want you to be happy. That's all we really want, John. We just want you to move on, be happy."

It was true, most of the people who'd known him had moved on. Anderson had gone the teaching route early on after Sherlock's death. To everyone's surprise, he was surprisingly good at it. The man secured his position as headmaster of Solitude, a Ivy League boarding school that specialized in educating the troublesome youth of influential families. To the new Headmaster's dismay, his success seemed to have persuaded many of John's old colleges to join the staff. Lestrade now tutored there in english, Donovan taught mathematics and Molly was employed as the head nurse.

It was the perfect recipe for a corporate family reunion. And John had let himself get sucked right into it.

Sure, he was technically qualified to teach as he had earned his degree not long after he came back from Afghanistan. But that was before he'd met Sherlock.

He turned back to Harriet and smiled sadly. "I appreciate that Harry. But really, I'll be fine."

"I'll hold you to that." She reached across the armrest and pulled him into a hug. "Just be careful."

"I will." John assured her, popping the trunk and collected his bags before returning to say his goodbyes.

"Nice suit by the way." She called after him as he rolled his cart into the station. "Very professional looking. Just remember to sell it!"

"Goodbye Harry." He waved at her without a backward glance.

* * *

John tapped his foot impatiently as he waited to board the train to Solitude. The school was supposedly located on a mountainous island somewhere of the coast of Norway, hence the name. Quite fitting for someone who was better off staying out of the public eye.

Despite the general decrease in interest, John tended to avoid most social situations if he could help it. There was always going to be that one person who recognized him as that one and only friend of the infamous Sherlock Holmes.

"Excuse me sir." The food cart lady poked her head into his compartment as he was getting settled. "Would you like anything off the cart?"

A few shots of whisky maybe. But that wouldn't be very professional now would it?

"I'll just have some water, thanks." He said regretfully, paying the waitress and taking a few sips from the bottle.

"Oi you, would you stop blocking the bloody compartment! I'm trying to get by here." Lestrade's complained rudely from behind her.

The food cart lady flashed him an annoyed glance and continued down the aisle.

"There you are!" Greg grinned widely, squeezing his suitcase in beside John's. "I trust you made it here okay?"

John nodded briefly and scooted over to make room. "It was fine. Harry drove me."

"Lovely! How is she?" Lestrade had always been rather fond of Harriet.

"Overbearing as always."

"Oh don't be such a git." He slapped his friend's knee playfully. "She must have picked up on your foul mood. What's eating at you mate?"

John decided to be blunt. "I don't think I'm ready for this. What if I screw up?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you telling me that you're brave enough to invade Afghanistan but not handle a class full of spoiled teenagers?"

"One, I wasn't the only idiot out there with an assault rifle. And two, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Oh don't be such a worry wart, you'll do just fine." Lestrade waved him off. "We all have our own individual teaching methods but as long as you follow the basics your first year shouldn't be too much of a disaster."

John elected to ignore that last bit and continued. "And what exactly are the basics?"

"Simple." Lestrade began. "First off is to control your nerves. These kids can be vicious. Show them any sign of weakness and they'll rip you to shreds."

"Control your emotions. Got it." John nodded, feeling nauseous. He was already certain that his first day was going to be a tremendous failure.

"The next step is a bit harder for some of the younger teachers like yourself. Try not to fall into the role of a fellow student. You are here to teach them, not be their friend. Don't allow any misbehavior go unpunished in hopes of winning them over. You'll won't be doing yourself any favors. These kids may come from a high class background but don't expect them to act like it. Kids don't get sent to Solitude for good behavior."

John kept his expression composed but inside he was screaming. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lestrade ran a hand across his balding head and thought. "Oh, what else...technicalities I suppose. If there's ever an emergency, like a fire or a bad storm perhaps, we're supposed to escort the students to the courtyard. Stuff like that rarely happens though." He paused, feeling the train jerk as they pulled out of the station.

"The school enrolls kids from years six to twelve. Seniors are typically the easiest whereas sixth years are the absolute worst. You'll get a good range of students though."

"Oh great. Just peachy."

John was feeling more and more stressed by the minute. He rubbed furtively at his temple as if doing so would relieve him of his anxiety. Lestrade sent him a worried glance but refrained from commenting further. There was only so much you could do for someone who didn't want to be happy.

* * *

A few hours later:

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Lestrade grumbled from somewhere inside the compartment. "We're approaching the school."

John's eyes shot open and he raced to catch his first sight of Solitude.. The island wasn't quite what he'd expected: It was small and sheltered, easily outlined by a series of steep cliffs that lined the isle. Atop the hill stood an impressive red stone castle that appeared to overhang the resulting rock face. Beyond this centural stronghold laid several acres of farmland and dense forest, the remaining area dominated by what John assumed to be a freshwater resivor. Despite his uncertainty, he had to admit the place was quite beautiful.

"Wow."

"That's one word for it." Lestrade chuckled, collecting his things as the train pulled into the station. Once the monitor had announced their arrival they were free to depart the train and begin the long trek up to the castle. Via horseback.

John had been assigned a small chestnut mare named Kynareth. He hadn't much experience riding but fortunately for him, his stead seemed to know it's way around. Lestrade however, wasn't so lucky.

"Move it you damn cow!" He groaned in frustration, kicking the bay in the gut with his tail end of his boot. The English professor had been assigned Markus, a rather large bay horse with an equally large appetite. Despite Lestrade's attempts to deter him otherwise, Markus had developed an unfortunate habit of stopping every few steps to graze alongside the path.

"Put some muscle into it, dobe." An unfamiliar man called from behind, pulling up beside them atop a fancy grey stallion and taking hold of his reigns. Much to their chagrin, the horse immediately corrected itself without effort.

John frowned at the newcomer. "Who the hell are you?"

The man rolled his eyes. "First rule of Solitude. Mind your language. Second," He turned to Lestrade. "Don't insult Markus. Horses have feelings too you know. And my name is Phillip, by the way." He added, tipping his hat to John before racing off to the front of the group.

"Showoff." Lestrade commented bitterly.

"You know him?" John asked.

"Phillip Abel. He's the psychology professor. Bit of a dick if you ask me."

John gave him a small smile. "Dully noted."

They rode for another few minutes before finally passing through the school's iron gates. Having observed the castle from a distance, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. But up close, John could see that it was much more complex. Every brick had a different pattern engraved into it, every roof shackle a different color. It was much less a fortress and more like a bunch of houses stacked together.

Eventually the group reached the main courtyard, a wide cobblestone area lined with stables. Once they had dismounted their horses and collected their items, Phillip lead them into the main hall where they were greeted by Anderson and Molly.

"Dr. Watson!" The headmaster addressed him. "Glad to see you here at last. Molly is handing out your schedule's and class list now. Feel free to look over them before the tour."

John nodded in thanks and accepted his papers, briefly reading over them before stopping dead in his tracks.

Second to last on the list was a student named Westley Holmes. With a bated breath John scrolled down and ran his finger over the section labeled Parents/Guardians.

There was only a single name listed there: Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**A/N: While this story DOES take place after Reichenbach Fall, it does not follow canon all the way.**

**Example: John did not get a teaching degree after he came back from Afghanistan.**

**Note: John was only about 30 when he met Sherlock. This takes place about 5-6 years after Reichenbach. (Will put that in the story later)**

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Should I continue?**


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